


Fill to Me the Parting Glass

by wickedblackbird



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Cancer, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedblackbird/pseuds/wickedblackbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't lie to me, Martin</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt:
> 
> Martin/Douglas established relationship. Martin is being secretive/withdrawn, etc, Douglas reluctantly comes to the conclusion that Martin is cheating on him. Cue angst, fretting, and arguments. Which result in Douglas finding out the truth - Martin isn't cheating on him. He's been trying to hide the fact that he either is, or potentially is, ill - like, possibly terminally ill. Angst & H/C.

_'Where were you?'_

\---

It started so innocuously. They had gotten back from a fairly routine flight to Dublin right on schedule. Nothing overly exciting - their passengers had been a rowdy team of footballers, but they'd been on mostly their best behaviour - and nothing had gone wrong with Gertie. It had been the second flight in a row to go off without a hitch. Bit of a record, really.

Douglas had been feeling rather pleased as they got off the plane.

'So,' he had said, leering suggestively as he wrapped an arm around Martin's shoulders, 'would Sir like to come back to my place? We can play Simon Says.'

Martin had laughed half-heartedly in response, relaxing into the embrace for a brief moment before straightening back up and pulling away. 'Maybe tomorrow,' he had said. 'I'm pretty tired tonight.'

And perhaps he had looked a little tired - pale, or shadow-eyed - but Douglas could no longer remember that now. He just knew that at the time, he had shrugged and smiled. Given the Captain a quick kiss and bid him a good night. Then that had been that.

\---

_'Nowhere. Just went for a walk, and lost track of the time.'_

\---

The second time had been a little more suspicious. It had been a rare day off with no flights, no stand-by, no child care, and no moving jobs. With the sun shining and the breeze fine, Douglas had decided it would be the perfect day to drag Martin out into the fresh air. Maybe force a bit of colour into his cheeks.

He was whistling slightly when he got to the agricultural college - some stupid song of Arthur's that he hadn't been able to get out of his head.

A tall muscular boy had answered the door, looking at Douglas suspiciously, and Douglas had immediately plastered on his most ridiculously polite grin. The one he always used to put Martin on edge when he was plotting something. As expected, it had only increased the mistrust in the boy's face.

'I'm looking for Martin Crieff. Do be so kind as to let him know.'

'Martin?' the boy had looked confused for a moment. 'Oh, right. The guy upstairs. I think he just got back a few minutes ago. I'll go get him.'

Douglas had been a little surprised to hear that Martin had already been up and about. But then, the younger man always kept early hours - likely his damnable sense of propriety was against sleeping in. Or maybe he had gotten a moving job after all.

It was a bigger surprise when the Martin had practically staggered to the door, looking like someone rather worse for wear after a night out. He had been pale and sweaty, and his eyes had gone wide and startled at seeing Douglas. 

'What are you doing here?'

Not quite the reception Douglas had been anticipating. He covered his discomfort with a shrug.

'Thought I'd drop by, so long as I was in the area. Fancy lunch?'

Martin had shaken his head. 'Sorry, Douglas. I think I'm coming down with something. Another time?'

'Of course.' Douglas had known his tone was chilly, but had been unable to help himself. 'Silly of me to drop by unannounced. One might think we were dating.'

'Douglas--' Martin had started, a pained look on his face.

'No, nevermind,' he'd interrupted, and smiled. 'I'm being petulant. Get some sleep.'

'Thanks. I will.'

\---

_'Don't lie to me, Martin!'_

\---

After that, it seemed like he saw Martin less and less. Most invitations to go out were met with some excuse, and the times they did get together, Martin showed up late and looked tired. Any questions into where he had been were avoided or met with vague answers.

It would have made less skeptical men than Douglas Richardson suspicious. As it was, he could feel himself growing angrier every day.

\---

_'Fuck you.'_

\---

Then, that morning, Douglas walked into the portacabin and could hear voices coming from Carolyn's office. They were muffled, but the walls were thin and cheap, and he could easily make out each word if not necessarily the nuances of tonality. He figured it was clear enough.

'So that's where things are?' Carolyn's voice.

'Yes.' And Martin's. 'I'm afraid so.'

'And what does Douglas say?'

There was a long pause. Then: 'I haven't told him yet. I don't really know how. That is, I --'

Douglas decided that was all he really wanted to hear. Nice to know that some things never changed - he was always going to be the last to know when he was being dumped. How kind of Carolyn to help Martin keep this from him. 

Part of him wanted to break something with his bare hands. Maybe Martin's neck. How dare that scrawny, pompous excuse for a pilot string him along like that.

Instead, he called loudly: 'Good morning! Anyone at home, or have I by some miracle become the only responsible employee of this air dot?'

\---

_'Oh, I bet you'd like that. Is that what he does when you're gone? Fucks you?'_

\---

Carolyn and Martin came out of the office, and neither of them made eye contact with him. Douglas forced himself to smile around his clenched jaw. It wasn't a very nice smile.

'Good morning, Martin. Carolyn. How good of you to grace me with your esteemed presences.'

Carolyn raised her eyebrows at his tone, looking more than ready to bark right back at him. Anything she might have been about to say was interrupted by Arthur bursting in cheerfully with cups of coffee.

\---

_'Is that what--? You think I'm cheating on you?'_

\---

Carolyn assigned all of them paperwork to do.

'Just because we're on standby doesn't mean that you can all sit here being lazy and useless,' she said sharply. 'Douglas, you will finally fill out all of your flight logs. Martin, you can start charting potential courses to Mr Aldington's favourite destinations. And, Arthur, I still need that inventory you've been working on for the past month.'

Her tone brooked absolutely no argument, and they all settled in to work with a minimum of complaint. The small room stayed mostly silent most of the day, the air tense and heavy. Not even Arthur's suggestion of playing 'Towns That Sound Like Cartoon Characters' could help the atmosphere. The game fizzled out before it had even really begun.

Martin sat in the corner, and didn't look at anyone. Particularly not Douglas. He could feel his blood begin to boil.

\---

_'Aren't you? What's his name, your mystery man?'_

\---

At the end of the day, Douglas caught Martin tightly around the wrist before the younger man could slip out the door and be gone. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carolyn look up sharply to watch them.

'We need to talk,' he told Martin seriously, voice pitched low.

'Let me go.' Martin said, struggling to pull his arm free. 'Douglas, what's gotten into you?'

'I said: we need to talk,' he repeated. 'My place, tonight at seven.'

Martin shook his head. 'I really can't. Not tonight. I'm tired. Can we talk tomorrow?'

A low growl forced its way out of Douglas' throat. He had no intention of being fobbed off with feeble excuses any longer. If Martin was going to trade him in for a younger model, then he would just have to be man enough to come out and say it.

'No,' Douglas said, over-enunciating. 'Tonight. My house. Seven.'

Then, he let go of Martin's wrist and stalked off.

\---

_'Doctor Benton.'_

\---

He spent the next few hours sitting on his sofa, brooding. At first, the relationship with Martin had seemed to be going so well. They still teased and fought at work, still bickered and played, but it had fallen into an easy rhythm that had left no hard feelings. After flights, they often spent the evening watching a movie or eating dinner together. Their easy banter had just stretched right into their personal lives, and sometimes even into the bedroom.

It felt like they fit.

Douglas couldn't even put his finger on when precisely things had changed. Which, perhaps, was what bothered him the most. He always knew, in the past, why his relationships had failed. There had always been a moment when they both realised it was over and they weren't in love any more.

That moment had never happened between him and Martin. Instead, there was just a strange, sudden pulling away. Martin had been tired and slightly irritable one day, and then things were just over. Douglas did not understand. Martin hadn't even had the decency to let him know.

It bloody well wasn't fair. And he fully intended to tell Martin that in no uncertain terms.

\---

_'Oh, a doctor. Sir is moving up in the world, isn't he?'_

\---

It was late by the time that Martin got to Douglas' house. Much later than seven o'clock.

Douglas stood, knowing full well that his height could be intimidating to the younger man, and raised his chin challengingly.

'Where were you?'

\---

_'No, Douglas. I have cancer.'_

\---

He had his answer.

The world stopped for one horrible, endless moment. And then everything came crashing down.


	2. Chapter 2

I have cancer.

The words seemed to hang horribly in the air between them. Cancer.

'Dear God,' Douglas eventually managed to whisper, sitting heavily back down on the sofa. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

'I wanted to,' Martin said, looking stricken. 'I just-- I didn't--' He trailed off and sighed heavily. 'I didn't really know how.'

'Didn't trust me to stick around through the hard parts, you mean,' Douglas said bitterly.

'What? No!' And then Martin was sitting next to him on the sofa, holding his hands tightly. For the first time in months, Douglas really took a good look at the younger man and didn't like what he saw. Martin had lost weight he had not truly had to lose, and the hollows of his cheeks and the shadows under his eyes were so stark against the pale skin that Douglas was at a loss for how he hadn't noticed. 

So many things suddenly made sense - the way the Captain had begun to tire more easily, the times he slipped off quietly in the afternoon, Carolyn's knowing (and, honestly, sympathetic) glances. And, here his biggest fear had been that Martin was cheating on him. God, he was such a fool.

'It's not that I didn't trust you,' Martin told him quietly, voice shaking slightly. 'At first I didn't want to say anything until I knew. And then... Telling you would have made it real.'

Douglas squeezed Martin's hands tightly. 'Well, tell me now.'

'It's leukaemia. They had me on a course of medication, but it's really not working. Doctor Benton wants to start chemotherapy.'

'When?'

Martin swallowed hard, looking nauseous. 'Next week. Carolyn's giving me a bit of time off. Herc's agreed to cover a few flights for me.'

'It's going to be alright,' Douglas said, and the words felt hollow. 'We'll figure this out.'


	3. Chapter 3

Douglas combed his fingers through Martin's hair, and tried to picture the younger man bald. He couldn't do it. The unruly ginger hair was simply part of who Martin was, as integral to the image of him as the ridiculously stiff posture and the epaulettes. It was a strange thing to be thinking about, given the severity of the situation, but Douglas just kept trying to picture Martin without hair.

Honestly, it was easier than thinking about any other part of it.

Even asleep, Martin looked exhausted rather than peaceful, features drawn and face tight with discomfort. It was only going to get worse. Whether he had finished medical school or not, Douglas knew enough to be aware of that much.

_'Combined modality chemotherapy,' Martin said in his head, pronouncing each word carefully. 'Doctor Benton said that pairing chemotherapy and radiation therapy was the best course of action.'_

It made sense. Radiation to kill the malignant cells, chemotherapy to limit further growth of the rest. But it was going to wreak havoc on Martin's body - both the disease and the cure. And more than that... leukaemia was something that affected the immune system. With that further compromised, every small further illness could have terrible results. Being exposed to the slightest pathogens was a danger.

There was no way he'd be able to fly a plane like that, even assuming his rounds of treatment left him with enough energy. With all of those people, and all of those different countries, it was simply too much of a risk.

Martin made a small, distressed noise in his sleep, shifting even closer to Douglas and tightening his one-fisted grip on his shirt. Douglas looked down at him, and felt a tightening in his chest just thinking about it.

He didn't want to be the one to point out to Martin that flying was going to be out of the question. It would be taking one more thing away from him.

Who was he fooling. It would be taking everything away from him.

God, he wanted a drink.


End file.
